A/N: My first time in the Symphogear fandom, hopefully the first of many, or at least a few. Trigger warning for abusive relationship, and maybe/sorta/kinda torture. you have been warned
"Pain is the universal constant."
The spoken words heralded a scream, concurrent with the sound of buzzing electricity that filled the mansion. Illumination was aided with blue light, visible electricity running along tesla coils and converters, all built to specifications that had been carefully laid out. For how antique they might seem, they were in perfect working order.
That was far from the only device present, a veritable stockpile of torture devices left about the large room, which rose on steps from a more formal ballroom to one of gray and metal. Some of them were more modern, while others would not look out of place in the medieval ages. And all were made to one specific purpose; inflicting pain.
The shocks lasted for a few moments, leaving the girl with pale purple hair to hang in the bindings that held her in place and tied her to the machine. Her muscles heaved, body coated in sweat as tears dripped down her cheeks and chin. No doubt she felt like she was on fire, and she couldn't have escaped even if she wanted to.
The machine itself was large and intimidating, as it out to be. The bindings were of leather, and iron bars met larger metal supports to keep the figure it bore aloft without fear of asphyxiation. No, the power cords that ran to it were the real worry, as those forced to experience it could attest.
"People are born kicking and screaming. As children they grow up, skin their knees and play their games. When they become adults they fight and bleed for money, possessions, for status. Then they die, and the pain stops."
As the words hung in the air much like the sound of electricity, the woman with long blond hair at the lever stepped over to the middle of the room, her gaze fixed upon the limp, hanging girl. Her lips curled in a grin at the sight, just imagining how much pain her partner and subordinate must be feeling at the moment. She knew that if it was what she, Finé, wanted, that girl would go through hell for her. That was the bond they had now.
Her speech resumed, drilling the point home relentlessly. "Even love is pain. The pain of longing, of desire, separation, heartbreak. It's merely emotional rather than physical."
She walked up the stairs, heels clicking on concrete as she rose to stand before the chained up girl, whose head rose to keep eye contact at the same time, even if it was faltering with red cheeks and a tremble in her visage.
"And, of course, the reverse can true as well, depending on the circumstances. But you knew that already." Circumstances such as these, for how things were. That was why she felt comfortable in ignoring the other devices, the still-bloody bed of spikes nearby with everything else, to focus on the one in front of her.
Reaching out, a firm hand took a hold of the waiting chin, lifting it up as red and full lips dove in to deliver a light kiss. It lasted a few moments before breaking, Finé meeting dark purple eyes with her own. "That's what I love about you Chris. You've suffered, drowned in your pain, and emerged all the stronger for it. Isn't that right?"
"Y-Yeah," Chris replied with a slight stammer of embarrassment. Yet that didn't stop her from leaning forward, to be closer to the presence of the woman who had become like a surrogate mother to her. When everyone had left, when she had been thrown from home to home and mistreated, Finé had been there to catch her.
In spite of that, Finé moved until she stood nearly an arms reach away, her hand still in place She drank in the girls agony and her devout loyalty at the same time. She could not ask for a better partner, someone to further her agenda where the other Gear Users were concerned, and who would do whatever she asked. It was all too perfect.
She examined her pawn, taking in every inch. The scars were barely visible, wounds that had long since faded and newer ones that had yet to heal completely. Beneath the surface were bones that had broken, muscles that had strained, a body that had suffered the rigors of what Finé had subjected her to, and emerged the better for it. At least, in the mind of the girl strapped to the machine.
Her hand dropped then, tracing a trembling chin as her thumb brushed a heated cheek. "The Nehushtan Armor will only allow the strong to wear it," she noted, lilts in her tone as she gave Chris a warm smile. "I can think of no one better to wear it." Besides herself, anyway.
Chris' eyes shone and sparkled, though whether it was from joy and happiness or sheer pain was hard to tell. Not that it mattered really, so long as Finé got what she wanted out of this. "I can do it," she confirmed, fighting to hide her true feelings. It wasn't that obvious, but Finé had gotten good at reading people. "I have to, right?"
"That's right." Finé's touch drifted downwards, running down her neck and brushing against black fabric, before the back of her hand arrived at the crook of the neck. "Together we will bring peace to this wretched world."
Chris hummed at the touch, indicating her approval. That statement was how Finé had secured her initial loyalty, and so long as she believed that that was the end goal, Chris would give it her full energy. As it stood, there wasn't a single shred of doubt in her mind, Finé was sure of it.
But an answer only came after she had nodded, a shuddering breath escaping. "Just you and me against the world." There was no objection, not that she had a choice. It was far too late for those sorts of doubts, not after stealing the Nehushtan Armor and using Solomon's Cane to kill Kanade Amou. There would be no forgiveness, for either of them.
"Yes, just the two of us," Finé echoed, taking a firm hold of Chris' shoulder. "My brave girl, until the world and God himself have given in to our design, or we are broken instead." She didn't mind failure too much. After all, she could always try again later, in a new body.
Chris, on the other hand, didn't have the option to do that. But it seemed to not be a hard decision anyway as her pleased look stiffened with determination and strength. "I won't fail," she said in a tone that bode no arguments. She had been brought to Finé's path long ago, and all that that meant for her.
Finé's grin widened in anticipation, delighting in such bold proclamations. "See that you don't," she replied with cautionary words upon her lips. "I hate to be disappointed." Chris could use the incentive, and Finé did so enjoy toying with her emotions.
At that Chris shook her head, vehemently denying any such possibility. "You gave me a chance, so I could be strong and fix this stupid world. I'm not going to waste that." Finé didn't doubt that it was true, and was looking forward to seeing just how far Chris was willing to go in pursuit of that dream of hers, how many would die before she wanted to stop. It was sure to be interesting.
"I know." Finé acted then, pulling Chris close in a comforting embrace. Chris leaned into it, burying her head in the taller woman's chest. "I could see that the first time we met. That's why I chose you for this." She had taken Chris, nurtured her, molded her, trained her, until the traumatized soul had bloomed into a determined and vicious warrior.
She could feel Chris basking in such praise, reinforcing the model that she had been cast in. The young girl was allowed to enjoy it for a bit longer before she pulled away, depriving her of the comfort that had been desired at the moment. Such intimacy would not come freely, that much Chris knew by now.
"A bit longer," Finé told her soothingly. "Then you will be ready, and we can see whether your new armor will be a good fit for you." She knew that Chris would endure. Thus, there was no reason to ask if she wanted to go on with this.
"Y-Yes," Chris replied nervously, steeling herself once more as she braced in the bonds that was held by. Not that it would change anything, but it was cute to see her try.
Finé, the purple fabric of her dress rippling behind her, strode back to the position that she had begun in. The lever fell, the air hummed with power before being pieced by a renewed scream, and the process began again.